


Anders Week 2017

by TimeSorceror



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Multi, Non-Binary Hawke - Freeform, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSorceror/pseuds/TimeSorceror
Summary: Seven ficlets written for Anders Week 2017 featuring my custom Hawke, Hayden. As seen on Tumblr. Summaries, prompts, and additional tags included in chapter notes. Enjoy more of your favorite feathermage, now all in one place!





	1. Lust // Chastity

**Author's Note:**

> In which Anders arrives in time to save Karl and later they explore the bedroom (or lack thereof) side of their relationship. 
> 
> Obviously, canon divergence is a thing here, and Hayden needs to learn how to knock.

Saving Karl had been a close thing. 

When Anders rounded the corner and saw Karl being held down by three Templars with a fourth holding the brand above his forehead and several other standing by to watch, he lost it. His sight had gone first white, then blue, and finally black. It wasn’t until he felt and tasted the blood between his tongue and teeth again (thankfully their blood this time, and not someone else’s) that he was able to come back to himself. 

With the last vestiges of Justice’s strength, he tore off Karl’s bindings and sobbed into his robes. He would’ve stayed the rest of the night there until the other mage reminded him that people would be coming soon to investigate and that it would be most unwise to linger.

Anders didn’t dare let go of his hand the entire time they ran through the night and into his Darktown clinic. 

When they arrived, Anders thrust Karl inside and closed the door quickly behind him, back slamming against the rough wood. He breathed harshly, closing his eyes as Karl stumbled, turned around and stepped forward, not wanting to see the hand slip through him like he’d stepped into a living nightmare.

Only it didn’t. Karl’s fingers brushed against Anders’ stubble very briefly before he was pulled flush against the other mage. Anders was surprised to find that it was Karl now who’s face was pressed into Anders’ chest, mostly because Anders was so much taller. When had he gotten so damn tall? He shook his head, deciding it didn’t matter.

A few kisses were exchanged that night, but any potential bedroom exploits for the pair of former lovers were set aside in favor of cuddling and body heat and just generally reassuring one another that they were alive.

Things remained that way for a long time, though Anders could not accurately say why. It wasn’t for lack of desire, or because of Justice.

Justice rather liked Karl. Liked him so much that Anders often felt that sometimes the spirit desired to converse with the other mage, and he’d let them. Sometimes he was even privy to their conversations, and he knew that Karl liked Justice, too.

And some nights he’d wake up from a steamy dream about the Karl in the Fade that hadn’t quite run it’s course... but Karl still lay next to him, asleep.

He never had the heart to disturb the man, and the thought of doing so always somehow sent a curl of fear to wind about his heart, as though waking his sleeping friend might dispel the illusion of their life together. Every day they spent here felt like borrowed time, and as much as Anders wanted to spend it in his bed, with Karl, kissing and touching in all the right places...

Anders sighed, nearly moaned when he felt Karl’s lips at the back of his neck as he stirred a pot of simmering elfroot potion mixture.

“What were you thinking of?” Karl purred, his voice low and soft, just like Anders had once liked it. “You seemed very far away there, in your brewing. Normally you are more...  _intense_  when you concentrate.”

Anders felt his body respond to the close proximity and heat of the other mage.

Did he want this yet? Was he ready for it? What the hell was he even feeling right now? Anders sighed again, and looked back with a murmured, “Karl...”

As was their usual pattern these days, Karl merely pressed another soft kiss to his neck and pulled away. “It’s alright. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Anders pulled his stirring stick from the potion and set it aside as he turned around.

“I–You’re not bothering me, Karl,” he tried to stress. “It–It’s just that I... I don’t know.” Anders decided that he needed to try to figure this out, right here, right now. “I want you. I know I do.” He caught Karl’s gaze and licked his lips. “But when things start to... to go as they were, I... I remember how it used to be.”

Karl’s eyes, always so soft to begin with when they looked at Anders, appeared to soften further. “It doesn’t have to be like that now.”

“In my mind, I know that. My body wants one thing though and my heart wants another.” Anders scowled at nothing in particular, grateful that the clinic was empty for once so that he could collect his thoughts. “I wish I knew what... what I could do for you. For us.”

Karl huffed softly and embraced Anders tightly. Gently.

“Anders. If we never had sex again, yet got to spend the rest of our lives together, I would die a happy man. Besides, you still give me the best kisses. They are like the sweetest ambrosia, your kisses.”

Karl angled Anders’ head just a bit so that he could give the tip of his nose a quick peck, and that made Anders giggle.

“You tease,” Anders hummed, smiling as he pressed his forehead to Karl’s. “And that’s so untrue, you know? For you see, it was I who always thought that it was  _your_  kisses that were the ambrosia.” Karl chuckled. “Well, we can’t both be right. We shall have to conduct tests.”

Anders bent low and just caught the edge of Karl’s lip between his teeth, worrying at it a little before fully pressing his lips against the other mage’s. They weren’t chaste kisses either, rather they more of the hasty, open mouthed variety that had Anders’ whole body vibrating from the tips of his hair to his toes and he felt safe here. 

Safe. What was it about these kisses that he was alright with?

Unfortunately he wasn’t quite able to finish that thought, as one of the doors to the clinic opened up and in walked Hayden Hawke, holding a basket full of embrium, rashvine, and other assorted herbs. Anders and Karl froze, right about the same time poor Hayden realized what they were doing, and when Anders caught sight of Hayden’s face, the poor thing was so flushed and wide-eyed.

“Um, s-sorry, I, ah... I can go if you’re, um... busy.”

Anders felt his own cheeks flush as Karl pulled away, laughing as he approached Hayden and moved to put the young mage at ease. Anders went back to his brewing, his thoughts stewing once more. He did not feel quite as dour as before though, with Karl’s assurances still fresh in his mind. 

Whatever issues he was working through would just have to run their course, unless things worsened again, he thought. He had a feeling he would be just fine however, and for some time, he remained content to cuddle and kiss and do little else. Sometimes Karl would hold his hand when they ate together in the quiet clinic, or they’d play footsie beneath Varric’s table during cards, sharing secret smiles with no one the wiser. He never pressed for more.

In the end, it was Anders who made the first move to rekindle their sex life, and it started over something as simple as one rare afternoon they’d both taken off to go outside of the city and pick herbs and wildflowers for the clinic. Anders had been kneeling down, searching a bramble patch for some thistle blooms when he looked up and saw Karl move to get some water.

Seeing the wind gently lifting at Karl’s hair as light caught his eyes and a single drop of water escaped the skin to trickle down his stubble... it summoned a feeling within Anders that caught him off guard. For once, his mind, body, and heart were all in sync, but he waited until they’d gone back to the clinic and put away their spoils to press Karl against the door and practically attack the other man’s lips with his own. 

Karl was the one to put a gentle hand on Anders’ chest to ask, briefly, “Do you want this, Anders?” and Anders could only respond by slowly grinding against Karl, drawing gasps from them both. 

“Do you?” Anders panted back, and Karl nodded enthusiastically.

Karl leaned forward, about to capture Anders’ lips in what he’d hoped would be an arousing, all-consuming kiss–

–only for the door right next to them to open up and Hayden walked through again. This time however the young mage merely yelped and ran off, shouting, “Uh, sorry, I’ll come back later!” as they did so, which had both Anders and Karl laughing, in tears.

“Someday,” Karl wheezed, “that one is going to learn how to knock.”

Anders chuckled. “Oh, I think they’ll have no trouble remembering that now, but do you think we should lock up a bit early? I was... rather enjoying that. We never did finish those ambrosia tests.”

Karl grinned, and after locking up the clinic doors, the two of them disappeared into their bedroom to spend some quality time together and to fully reacquaint their bodies as they had with their minds, and it was one of the most enjoyable experiences Anders had had in bed with another person in a very long while.

It was an experience that, due to his Grey Warden blood, they might have repeated, several times, over the course of the night. 

Anders didn’t mind. It was Karl, and he was safe, but most importantly he was loved, and to Karl, he knew nothing else mattered more.


	2. Gluttony // Temperance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Fenris and Anders have a discussion about their drinking habits, both past and present.
> 
> If discussions about using alcohol for anything other than a conversation tool, maybe skip this one. Anders and Fenris do not make for good role models when it comes to their drinks.

Fenris knew that the mage didn’t drink, and that he often attributed his spirit’s dislike of... well, spirits.

“He once told Oghren that calling alcoholic drinks “spirits” was a humiliating word for it,” he recalled Anders telling his Diamondback group one evening. “I do still like the occasional drink, when I can afford the things I prefer.”

“And what things do you prefer then Blondie?” Varric asked. Fenris frowned at the dwarf, who was always asking personal questions so that he might write down the answers to put in his strange memoir. Fenris didn’t care for it, personally, and he knew that sometimes even Anders had his limits as to what he would and wouldn’t divulge to their private playing.

“Sweet things,” Anders surprised Fenris by replying. “Things like berry meads or certain light wines. You don’t often find such things around here.”

Anders had sighed, lamenting the lack of his favorite drinks. When their next session rolled around, Fenris rummaged through the wine cellar to see what other drinks he could offer his guests, only to be surprised when he found a bottle of mead that he recalled Anders mentioning the session prior.

He waited until after Varric and Donnic had left, and then and only then did he present it to Anders. The mage was understandably flabbergasted.

“W-What? Why? Did you...  _remember_  what I said last time?”

Fenris nodded, reluctantly.

“If you wouldn’t mind sharing it with me...” 

Anders stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed, assessing him. The mage likely suspected that he had some ulterior motive and planned to kill him, but Fenris had planned no such thing. He hoped that Anders could see that and not devolve into his usual rants of suspicion. Once, Fenris had participated in them wholeheartedly and gave as good as he got, but at some point they became less enjoyable and even started to hurt...

...a fact that Anders seemed to be noticing, but hadn’t yet figured out why.

That was just fine with Fenris. He himself was afraid of the feelings welling up inside him. For one, he knew what they were, and they scared him. 

Anders did not start ranting as Fenris had expected, but even as he nodded slowly and replied, “No, no, I don’t mind,” in a very calm, even tone, there was tension writ into the tightness of his arms, the hunch of his shoulders, and the way his eyes were still trained on him when Fenris led Anders up to his room so that they might share the drink in a more private setting.

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Fenris said as they sat down and Fenris opened the bottle. He’d even found some glasses earlier in the day and placed them on a small table between the plush, high-backed chairs he’d dragged before the fireside. He filled them, and handed one to Anders.

Anders took it, and at last his tension began to recede as he shook his head in disbelief. “I... I hope you do not think me insulting that I thought you were. We do not... this is not...” Fenris chuckled, and Anders startled at the sound, eyes wide with amazement. “I know. But I know that Varric and Donnic are not fond of such sweet indulgences, so naturally you were my choice to share this with.”

“You don’t really discriminate with your alcohol,” Anders said lightly, almost accusingly. “You picked this out for me specifically.”

Fenris looked away and drank from his glass as he stared into the fire. The sweetness of it lingered on his tongue as the rest of the pleasant burning slid down his throat. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

Surprisingly, it was Fenris who broke the silence. 

“You know, at first I didn’t like it,” he confessed, very quietly. Anders didn’t reply, but he could tell that the mage was listening intently.

“Danarius would give me some to taste, on occasion, but he preferred the bitter alcohols like Donnic and Varric, and at the time, I had no recollection of what it tasted like. I was not enthusiastic about the taste, but had to fake my enjoyment anyway. I was not certain of the reaction he’d been hoping for, but enjoyment always seemed to please him.”

“My mother would give me a little of my father’s ale sometimes,” Anders replied when Fenris had finished his story. “And it was Ferelden ale, so of course it was bitter, just like the people who drank it.”

Fenris snorted. “You’re Fereldan. As is Hayden. Neither of you are bitter people.” Then it was Anders’ turn to snort as he let out a bark of laughter. “Ha! Not bitter! I’m more bitter than a mother who’s only child left to become a cleric. I can’t really speak for Hayden, though I know that some bitterness lingers in them. Mostly towards their mother, but I shouldn’t say any more.”

Fenris told Anders about how when he was left with the Fog Warriors, they showed him what a sweeter drink tasted of, and though he glossed over the circumstances of his departure, he said that through them he learned to be more open and discerning about his drink.

Anders regaled him with tales of Circle mages making their own drinks in the dark, mostly forgotten places of Kinloch Hold’s tower, and as Anders continued to indulge in his drink, the stories became more and more elaborate. He did voices too, and sometimes got up to reenact some scenes that had Fenris curled up or bent over with laughter. 

Then the mage seemed to remember something painful, and he sat down with a tired smile. “Those were some of the few happy memories I had of that place... but after Karl was gone, I had no desire to stay.”

“You started escaping again.”

“Yes.”

Anders began to tell the tale of his sixth escape where he made it to Denerim and lived there for a year before being caught again.

“I drank a lot, then. I started out working at the Pearl as just a Healer, but then after one of the servicers talked me into wearing a corset and the Madame caught us doing it... she said I looked good in it and decided to hire me on.” 

A fond smile stretched Anders’ face, and Fenris had the strangest wish that the mage would smile more often. 

“I drank often, with my patrons. Some liked spoiling me, cause I was pretty. Some also shared my preference for sweet things, and couldn’t possibly finish an entire bottle on their own. Some even taught me how to appreciate some of the more bitter drinks, but I knew sweet drinks would always be my favorites.”

Then Anders sighed and bitterness lingered in the words that followed, “It was not to last. Though the Madame kept Templars away from me as best she could, one night there was a  _really_  fantastic orgy with like, six or seven people, including me and two other servicers. One of the patrons was a former Templar though, and turned me in right as soon as he sobered up.”

“And... after your escape? Did you drink with the Wardens?”

Anders snorted again as he polished off a glass and filled it up again.

“Did I drink with the Wardens,” he muttered, chortling. “Maker, did I ever. It’s hard to get drunk as a Warden, but I knew a dwarf, Oghren, who was like perpetually drunk. Strangely functional. You would’ve had nothing on this guy. He brewed his own ale that tasted like fire and despair and all you wanted after you finished the first shot was,  _“Another!”_ ”

He raised his glass of mead and downed it in several gulps. He filled it once more, but did not continue to drink as heartily.

“Nate, Sigrun, Velanna... even Rashia would sometimes join us for drinking competitions. Once, I woke up after one of those, layin’ up against the statue of Andraste in the keep’s courtyard, completely nude. My robes had ended up servin’ as my bed, I think, but my knickers –this was back when I’d started wearing them again– had ended up right on top of the head like a crown!”

Fenris descended into a fit of raucous laughter.

“I wish I could’ve stayed,” Anders lamented after Fenris’ laughter died down.

“Why didn’t you?” Fenris asked, and Anders sighed, setting his glass aside and shaking his head. “Some templars joined the order to try to get at me. They nearly would’ve, if not for Justice.” Anders bit his lip, staring intently at the floor.

“Some people might’ve died. Good people. The templars I didn’t care for, but the other Wardens... some of them were my friends...”

Anders pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them.

“After that, I did the only thing I knew I was good at, and I ran away. I haven’t really... really had a real drink since then except this –thanks for this by the way, it was nice– and I kinda figured that me not bein’ able to enjoy shit anymore was penance for my sins. And accordin’ to the Chantry, my very existence is a sin so... I’ve got a lot to be repentant about.”

“Anders...” 

Fenris didn’t like the ache in his chest that Anders’ words seemed to evoke. He figured that a lot of the details were missing and that Anders was probably saying things he wouldn’t normally say, but his tale about leaving the Wardens was... similar, eerily similar to his own sordid past.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he began, and Anders snorted, but Fenris kept going on, “about us being more alike than I thought.”

“What?” Anders’ word was barely above a whisper, but Fenris’ keen elven ears caught the sound. 

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about killing people I care about and leave it at that, Anders. By your logic, I don’t deserve anything nice either, but Hayden... Hayden has taught me that I do. I can have and enjoy nice things. So can you!” Anders huffed, but a small smile made its way onto the mage’s tired face. “Huh. That’s got to be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...”

Perhaps it was. Fenris felt guilty now for all of the untrue and hateful things he’d ever said, and he was about to give the mage an honest apology before Anders stood up and dusted off his coat before polishing off his last glass.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Anders mumbled. “I’ve missed that gentle buzz in the back of my head. It was nice.”

“I still have more of those,” Fenris said, on impulse.

“...oh? Do you?” Anders flashed him a tired grin and Fenris couldn’t help the flush that blossomed on his cheeks. Anders didn’t seem to notice, so he continued with, “Yes. Would you care to join me some other evening to share another? Perhaps with some food? Hayden still complains that you don’t eat enough.” Anders chuckled.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me out on a date,” he mused, and Fenris stilled. Anders merely flashed him another smile and inclined his head to Fenris. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Just swing by whenever you’re ready. You know where to find me.”

And then the mage sauntered out of the room, leaving parts of Fenris very hot and bothered and not at all affected by the alcohol he’d just consumed.

 _Fasta vass_. Now he was going to be dreaming about what that ass looked like underneath that coat and those robes. Did the mage still wear smallclothes, he wondered? Well, there were worse things to dream about, he supposed.


	3. Greed // Charity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some crying about pastries, and the benefits of having sex on rugs with unfortunate patterns is hinted at.
> 
> Idk what to tag this one. Uh. Allusions to potential rug abuse? There's some definite hurt/comfort going on though. Also some heavy innuendo ahead.

Anders saw the pastries in the window as he walked arm in arm with Hayden through Hightown one evening. His feet slowed as he caught sight of the daintily placed powdered sugar on top and he remembered a once beloved pair of hands picking some up and throwing it playfully in his face.

“Anders?” Hayden’s voice cut in through the bright gloom of his musings, “Is something wrong, Anders?”

He shook himself and suddenly realized that he’d stopped them right in front of the display. He opened his mouth, quite ready to tell Hayden that it was nothing, that he was absolutely fine… until he felt the wetness of a few tears roll down his cheeks. He sniffled a bit and furiously wiped at his eyes to try to blot away his shame.

“What’s wrong?” Hayden’s voice came again, low and quiet. Soothing.

Anders felt Hayden lean against him a little more heavily, their grasp on his arm briefly tightening to a gentle squeeze. 

“Those madeleines are important, aren’t they?”

Ah, Hayden. Such a kind, clever soul they were. 

Anders sighed deeply, and once he felt that he’d sufficiently blotted up his tears, he nodded. “Karl used to make them,” he replied, clearing his throat after hearing his voice croak from tears he was still trying to hold back.

“He’d make them, in the Circle. We didn’t have them often because we were, you know, filthy mages who didn’t deserve anything good in life but… the kitchen staff liked him and sometimes… sometimes…” Anders sighed again, running a hand through his hair and staring forlornly at the pastries.  “I don’t know why this bothers me so much. It’s been… four, five years now?”

“You loved him,” Hayden reminded him. “You lost him. I know how hard that is, to lose someone you love. I still miss my father deeply when the leaves start turning just before Harvestmere, and Bethany… well, I suspect that she was Mother’s favorite child, and she speaks of her often, still. I often wonder if there really was more that I could do, and thinking back on my memories of her…”

They trailed off, shrugging. “Would it help if we purchased some?”

Anders stared at Hayden, stunned, before turning back to look at the elegantly arranged pastries in the window. 

“I don’t know if they’ll soothe the ache in my heart,” he said at last, biting his lip a little and licking it, “but sharing some with you would be lovely, I think.” Hayden hummed in agreement, tugging him along gently towards the shop’s door. “Let’s not tarry then,” they chirped brightly, “it’ll be dark soon.”

They walked into the shop and Hayden bought an assortment of two dozen decorated madelienes, even going so far as to feign an interest in taking up baking to ask for a beginner’s recipe. 

Anders’ heart felt overfull as it swelled with love for the other mage.

They took the pastries home and waited to eat them until after enjoying the dinner Orana had prepared, and Anders surprised himself when he greedily consumed nine of them in one sitting. Hayden had actually been the one to draw attention to it by pulling the boxes away with a grin and teasingly insisting he not make himself sick by eating all of them at once.

“Do you feel a little better?” Hayden asked as they dressed for bed that evening. Anders paused to search his heart, sighing contentedly. 

“A little,” he answered honestly. “Though I’m uncertain how much of it stems from my actually feeling full for once.” A chuckle escaped him as he slipped into one of the pairs of silk sleepwear that Hayden had had altered just for him. “It’s such a rare occurrence.” 

Hayden hummed noncommittally, climbing into the bed and burrowing under the covers. “It makes me feel so content to know that you feel content.” They flashed a smile up at Anders when he slid under the covers to join them. “So, what are we reading tonight, darling?”

“More from that rare book about spirit healing that you picked up at the Black Emporium–Maker, this was such a good find.”

“Sounds lovely,” Hayden murmured, curling up against his chest, arranging themselves so that they could comfortably follow along as Anders read aloud. Anders reached over and pulled the book from the nearby nightstand and began to read, relishing in the twin feelings of contentment that stemmed from both himself and Justice at the thought of the great care that Hayden took to keep them safe and fed. 

He read until Hayden’s yawns became too frequent, and then he marked their place before setting the book back in it’s place on the nightstand. Anders fell asleep, spooned against Hayden’s back, his arms gently holding tight to the other mage.

* * *

A little over a year later, Anders would be walking down a familiar Hightown thoroughfare on a cool autumn evening with Hayden on one side and Fenris on the other. He paused again, catching sight of the pastries arranged in the window of a shop they had been to many times before, and his companions took notice when he did so.

Hayden, who looked a little less distraught than they had in weeks prior though still in the midst of recovering from the horrific death of their mother, frowned at him curiously. “Anders?” They asked again, “Is something wrong?”

Anders shook his head. 

“Nothing more than usual,” he answered, jerking his head towards the shop window. “I just saw those pastries and thought to buy a few for you. I know you’re very fond of the savory buns they sometimes sell. Would you like to take a look and see if they still have any in stock?”

Hayden blinked at him, their stunned expression likely mirroring whatever had been on his face the first time Hayden had offered to purchase two dozen madeleines for him. Anders could even see the beginnings of tears forming at the edges of their eyes and he began to fuss a little, wiping them away.

“Oh, don’t cry, it’s alright… have I said something wrong?”

Hayden sniffled, smiling as they shook their head. “No, no, I’m alright. It’s just… I… I would very much like to see if they still have some, yes.”

They sighed, taking one of Anders’ hands in one of their own. “They might not ease the ache in my heart, but a warm dessert after one of Orana’s meals will certainly be enough to fill my stomach.” Hayden giggled, and Fenris frowned, not understanding the reference.

“Am I missing something?” he asked curiously, but Anders just waved the question away. “I’ll tell you later. For now though… would you like something? Some of those apple tarts, perhaps?”

Fenris flushed and Anders couldn’t keep the grin from his face at the sight. The elf really was quite adorable when embarrassed, though Anders knew he would never admit it.  “You want to… to buy something for me?” Anders nodded, reaching to gently grasp one of Fenris’ hands. He wasn’t wearing his gauntlets today; a rarity for the elf. Anders was glad for it however, as it helped him emphasize his next words all the better.

“Everyone should be able to enjoy a sweet treat or two every once in awhile,” he said seriously. “And while I don’t recommend trying to drown your pain with them, sharing such things with the people you care about can be just as fulfilling as the treats themselves.” He smiled, squeezed Fenris’ hand, and was rewarded when the elf gasped and flushed a few shades deeper.

“I… very well. If you insist.”

Anders’ smile widened and he led his two lovers into the shop. He wasn’t able to buy two dozen pastries like that first time, but when they took their treats home and shared them with one another while cuddling on the library sofa after dinner, the quantity of the treats hardly mattered.

“I think I see the appeal of this exchange,” Fenris mumbled, his words muffled by one of the sweet buns filled with sausage and cheese that Hayden had offered him. “This is… nice. I feel… warm. Full. Content.”

“And not just with food,” Hayden added, smiling shyly, biting gingerly into a chocolate dipped madeleine. “Thank you for this, Anders.”

Anders ducked his head, feeling his own cheeks flush with a heat that did not come from the fire in front of them. He attempted to cover up the motion by taking a few nibbles from the apple tart he held perched above his fingers, though from Fenris’ resulting grin he suspected he had not been successful.

“Well, I’m glad you liked them. You’ve both been helping me take care of the clinic lately, and I just… wanted to take care of you in return.”

The last bit he tried to mumble unsuccessfully into his tart, but he only succeeded in getting apple jam on the tip of his nose instead, causing Hayden to nearly fall apart with laughter and Fenris to pull him close so that he could lick the jam right off. 

Anders shifted a little as a suddenly thrill of arousal pulsed down his spine.

“Now, now,” he chuffed, “that’s enough of that. I’m trying to eat here.”

Fenris snorted. “It looked more like you were trying to literally inhale your food instead of eating it.” The elf chuckled, and Anders couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him at the sound of Fenris’ sinfully sultry voice.

“Fenris,” Hayden scolded playfully, “he’s right. That’s enough of that. If you really want to involve… our treats in another sort of treat, we should probably move to somewhere or something we don’t mind staining if we make a mess. We already make things difficult enough for Orana as it is with our sheets, we don’t need to add this sofa to the list… and besides, I’d personally not like to stain this sofa either.”

They grinned, and Anders felt gooseflesh raise all along his arms at the sight of the very indulgent, very predatory once-over they were giving him.

“You know,” he began, pausing to clear his voice after he’d squeaked a little under their deeply arousing stares, “there’s a perfectly good rug right here in front of the fire… and it’s not even a very pretty one.”

Fenris hummed, polishing off his sweet bun before pressing close against Anders’ back to press his lips against the flesh at the nape of his neck.

“Mmm… sounds like it’s quite replaceable then.”

“It is definitely replaceable,” Hayden grumbled. “It was a gift from one of the Hightown noblewomen at that last soiree we had to attend… you know, the very Orleisian one who was obsessed with all things cow printed?”

The three of them stared at the rug, which was not terrible in construction but definitely a little out of place with its… interesting color scheme and patterning.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy helping you get rid of that,” Anders snorted. 

Yes, sometimes being a little self-indulgent in the name of charity wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. Especially if it got rid of terrible rugs and heartache in equal measure.


	4. Sloth // Diligence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much cuddling and Anders learns to sit back and catnip for an evening.
> 
> Tags? Cuteness overload. Cuddles. Anders finally learning to take better care of himself. That's pretty much it for this one.

As the rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon of the rooftops outside their bedroom window, Anders stirred awake.

Today was one of the rare times that he had ended up in the middle, sandwiched between Hayden, who was in his arms and snoring  _very_  softly in the most adorable fashion, and Fenris who was at his back, face buried in his hair as his arms were curled up and pressed against Anders’ back. 

He loved this feeling. It was so decadent, so sinful...

The tight knot of feelings in his chest that was Justice made itself known by pressing insistently against the boundaries of their connection. Impatience made his legs ache and a pressure form against his sinuses. Anders groaned quietly, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillows in his discomfort.

Anders knew Justice wasn’t trying to hurt him on purpose; rather, the spirit just wanted him to get up and start the day now that he was awake, however...

“Justice, stop that. You let Anders sleep a little while longer, okay?”

Anders lifted his head slightly to glance down at the sleeping form of Hayden, whose voice he’d heard just now. The younger mage still breathed deeply in his arms, and he was loathe to disturb them.

Then Hayden’s lips pursed, and Anders stilled as Hayden, eyes still closed, continued speaking.

“We’ll come help out with the clinic today and run the newest copy of our letters by Varric on the way home. Is that understood?”

Anders sensed that the knot of feelings that was Justice paused at Hayden’s words until, a little guiltily, it retreated from the forefront of Anders’ consciousness. Hayden snuggled closer and murmured into the crook of his in an even quieter whisper, “Go back to sleep Anders.” Though muffled and heavily slurred with the weight of sleep on their tongue, Hayden’s words brokered no argument.

Against his back, Fenris burrowed closer, further sandwiching him in between his two lovers. Anders sighed deeply, giving in to the call of the Fade, and he relished in a few more hours of sleep until the rays of the sun finally made their way into the little haven that was Hayden’s four-poster sanctuary. 

 

* * *

 

 

After dropping the revisions to his latest writing project by Varric’s desk in the evening, Anders returned home with Fenris and Hayden to begin immediately pouring over his alchemy set. His lovers had decided to practice sparring in the small courtyard garden, and though Anders longed to go with them, he knew Justice would be nagging at him about sloth if he ignored his brewing.

Years ago before he had even gone down into the Deep Roads with Hayden he’d come up with the idea of a nutrient potion that could help the refugees supplement what little they could afford to buy in the way of food. 

He was close now, he thought, but he often hit walls in his research that made it difficult to keep at it. Luckily, he had Justice to pester him about it, so there he sat, waiting for his latest batch of potion to finish brewing while he read from a book that sat in his lap and his right leg tapped away furiously against the stool he was perched on.

Distantly he registered the sound of footsteps approaching his workstation, but he didn’t look up until there was a slight rapping against the wood of the open door. He expected Hayden to be down here looking for him, but instead he was greeted to the sight of Fenris standing in the doorway looking slightly small and awkward. Anders frowned. It was very unlike Fenris to be timid around him.

“Is it time for dinner?” he asked, electing not to comment on Fenris’ unusual entrance. “Did Hayden send you to fetch me?”

Fenris seemed to finally gather his bearings and stepped into the room, eyes scanning the various ingredients and instruments he had strewn about in a strange combination of organized chaos.

“No, I was... merely curious as to why you decided not to spar with us this evening. Though I do believe we will be having dinner soon and Hayden said they’d be down to fetch us when it was ready.” Anders set aside his book but was unable to completely stop the tapping of his foot even while focused on his conversation with Fenris.

“I’m trying to create a nutrient potion for the people of Darktown. Or, well, for Lowtown and the Alienage as well I suppose, though it started out as just for the people of Darktown. I’ve been working on it for years.” Anders paused to think, glancing up in a particular direction as he tried to remember. “ I’ve probably been working on it since... since before I went into the Deep Roads with Hayden on that disastrous expedition.”

Fenris blinked at him, apparently stunned. 

“You’ve been working on this for that long? That’s... some dedication. I knew you were devoted to your causes, but that sounds more like diligence to me.” The elf flushed and admitted, “I must confess I once thought you incapable of such a thing.”

Anders shrugged. “As I once thought you incapable of having any kind of tenderness for a mage and yet... here we are.”

Fenris grunted. “Touche.” 

The elf then paused again to survey Anders himself, noticing the slight twitching of his right leg. “Diligence indeed,” he muttered. “You are overfull with energy this evening.” He smirked, moving closer and pressing up against Anders. The elf’s warmth did not stop Anders’ jitters, but it certainly had his attention.

“Oh? Overfull am I?” he asked playfully, carefully pulling the elf onto his lap. “What would you like to do about that? Since I missed tonight’s exercise, why don’t we... spar with our tongues instead? Or we could cuddle. This stool is not the best place for that though... though there is a bench on the far side of the room we could utilize. It’ll be awhile before these potions are done.”

“A nice cuddle would not go amiss,” Fenris admitted, though a little begrudgingly. Anders smiled as he unceremoniously swept up the elf in his arms, causing Fenris to yip sharply in surprise.

“I thought you liked cuddles, Fenris,” Anders teased, carrying him over to the bench and setting both of them down on top of the blankets there. Fenris huffed, but remained where Anders had lain him on top of his broad chest. 

“I like them better when I choose to be cuddled... though I must also confess that I find it... rather pleasing to be picked up by you. And a little surprising, though perhaps it should not be, considering how heavy your staff is and the ease with which you twirl it around like a toothpick.”

Anders bit his lip a little at Fenris’ admission. “Oh, sorry about that–”

“Not to worry, mage,” Fenris reassured him. “Just sit back and enjoy the cuddling. You have earned a little time to relax.”

“It is still difficult sometimes, when Justice feels that relaxation is slothful.”

Fenris made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. “Your spirit can take those feelings and toss them into the void. Even I relax sometimes after a long day of hunting slavers or whatever it is we’ve been doing, and you work just as hard as I if not more so. And Hayden is adamant you take care of yourself better. It would not do to worry them.”

At Fenris’ words, the tension in Anders’ body lifted and he fell lax beneath the elf’s solid weight. A familiar soft guilt flooded his connection with Justice, followed by a tender apology. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and finally letting himself sink into the comforting warmth of the room around him.

No more words were exchanged between them, but there didn’t need to be. The silence between them was hardly silence at all with the soft bubbling of a cauldron still going on nearby and the gentle breathing of Fenris atop his chest.

He hadn’t realized he’d slipped into a doze until another knock at the door startled him from sleep, jarring a similarly dozing Fenris as they looked around and finally found Hayden standing in the doorway, staring at them and smiling to themselves as though they’d just discovered Lady Moonpaws doing something cute with her kittens. 

“As adorable as you two are,” they said, chuckling to themselves, “I fear I need to wake you, as dinner is ready now.”

Anders and Fenris untangled themselves and stood up, Anders going to put out the fire beneath the cauldron of his latest batch of potions. He glanced at it and shrugged, figuring that he could bottle most of it after dinner if he asked for his lovers’ help, which they would most certainly give if it meant he could join them in the library for more cuddling faster than he usually did on nights when he usually preferred to work.

Well. Perhaps there wouldn’t be quite so much of that tonight. He had worked very hard and perhaps he did indeed deserve a little rest. There was always more work to be done tomorrow, but for what remained of today... he would relax. One only had so many days in their life, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of his to the best of his abilities.

Thank the Maker his lovers cared so deeply for his health and comfort. He smiled to himself as they made their way upstairs to eat; he would most definitely have to find a way to thank them later.


	5. Wrath // Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much introspection about the place of wrath and forgiveness in the life of our favorite feathermage.
> 
> Some references to rape and abuse in the Circle are hinted at. Very hurt/comfort towards the end though.

As a boy, Anders thought he’d known wrath. 

His father would often tell him to be careful near the scythe that was used for harvest, and then one day he cut himself touching the blade, blood running down his arm with pain shooting through him. His mother had patched him up quickly, but when his father found out, Anders had been subjected to a scolding so fierce that he never disobeyed his father like that again.

Until the day he was helping to care for the horses, and a small rattlesnake spooked their draft mare, nearly kicking him in the face as he was cleaning her hooves... and he burnt down the barn in an unexpected display of accidental magic. He never forgot the look on his father’s face as the door to his room was shut and locked while the Templars were called...

_“–the boy is a sin! A punishment upon our house! He’s going to the Circle!”_

All the color in the world seemed to drain away as he sobbed uselessly, curled up on his bed and clutching one of his mother’s hand-stitched pillows. He was still clutching it as he was carted away, his sobs having reduced to a silence that he would keep for so long that the Templars eventually stopped asking for his name when they’d forgotten it, and he’d ceased to be a boy anymore.

Now he was a young man in the Circle, and his name was Anders. 

As a young man in the Circle, he certainly knew wrath. 

At first, knew a little of it in the sores on his hands as his skin was rubbed raw from the thousand dishes he’d had to scrub, from all the floors of the tower he’d had to mop, and from every shelf in the library or the storerooms as their dust settled over him like a semi-permanent film that lasted for days and made it hard for him to breathe.

Those were just the little things, though. Later he would most certainly know it in the sting of the whip on his back as he was tied to a table and lashed until Greagoir said stop, though in the later years of his time in the Circle the Knight Commander was not always present. Sometimes the Templars liked to have a little fun with him. Sometimes they’d whip him while they used him, and only if they were in a good mood would they use lubricant. 

It was a wrath that left him twitching and bleeding and gasping in pain, magebane coursing through him so that he couldn’t heal the wounds.

So Anders learned that he could handle wrath. Wrath he could survive if he but bit his lip and held on for long enough. 

Neglect, however, left him in the cold and the dark for a year, and during that year he grew to long for the touch of wrath. Wrath meant he was still alive; that he was still him and not an echo of himself that might’ve passed through the veil and into the Fade while no one was looking. Later he would look back on that time and wonder if a part of him hadn’t done that anyway.

In a way wrath was both his greatest enemy and staunchest ally during those dark days. He had been put in the dark because of wrath, and it was through wrath’s pain that he survived.

When the time came to run for the last time, he was no longer a young man. 

As an adult, Anders felt as though he hadn’t stopped running since. His time with the Wardens had been brief; a short reprieve from state of constant fear and fury that had been his existence since escaping solitary. Well, really he’d been that since the day his father had sent him to the Circle if he was being honest with himself, but he was so rarely that these days, even with a Spirit of Justice living in his head.

Justice might abhor the practice of lying, but he couldn’t stop Anders from lying to himself or keep him from his own delusions. Anders was perfectly happy keeping those to himself, especially after the day Hayden Hawke had first stumbled into his clinic.

His first impression of Hayden was of how kind they were, how understanding. He couldn’t be sure, but when he admitted Justice’s existence to them after the Chantry disaster, he thought that their quick forgiveness might actually be as honest as their eyes were bright, and their eyes were very bright indeed.

Anders couldn’t believe that someone could forgive him so quickly, so used to the touch of wrath was he. And then Hayden reached out and took his hands into theirs, as though sensing his disbelief. Anders felt his heart flutter like a blighted butterfly even while still in the throes of grief, and that was when he began to fall headfirst in love with the timid, shy-smiling healer.

That didn’t mean he didn’t still feel wrath’s touch, because of course even Hayden could not keep Anders’ first meeting with Fenris from being any less explosive than it ended up being. Once the elf had learned what Anders was (first that he was a mage and secondly that he was possessed), Anders was certain that he would be forever a thing to hate in Fenris’ eyes, just as he had been in his father’s.

He tried pushing them both away so that he wouldn’t have to feel Hayden’s forgiveness and Fenris’ wrath all at once. The wrath he might deserve to bear, but forgiveness? What had he done to deserve that? And now that he’d felt it again after so long after having gone without it, he almost didn’t want to let it go even though he felt guilty for wanting more.

He couldn’t fathom how it was possible to exist in a state of being the object of one person’s overflowing forgiveness and another’s unfiltered hate. Anders couldn’t see things changing for him with either of them, so he preferred to let them have each other while he kept to his work and his patients.

Fate had a funny way of changing things though, especially when Hayden’s mother died at the hands of a sadistic blood mage and brought the three of them together in their grief over a woman who hadn’t always understood them, but had always been kind to them. Suddenly Anders had not one but two lovers who didn’t hate his every eccentricity and yet found them endearing instead while they forgave the ones that weren’t.

Sometimes he’d wake them at night with his nightmares of the Circle, and they wouldn’t say a word. Hayden would merely wriggle out from between them and move to burrow at his back while Fenris let him cling as much as he needed until a more peaceful sleep came back to him. 

Sometimes during sex a stray touch or caress or a finger that needed just a smidge more lubricant would set him whimpering and instantly Hayden’s hands would be at his sides, gently rubbing and soothing while Fenris’ voice rumbled in his ears:

_“You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me and Hayden. You’re safe.”_

Safe, and so often forgiven. Even when later, the air itself was on fire and the city was in ruins, they were at his side, holding his hands in a way that said,  _We never want to let you go. You are ours, and you are forgiven_. Hayden he could understand because their forgiveness seemingly knew no bounds, but Fenris...

Fenris’ forgiveness felt like coming home. 

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he was a boy again. A boy without magic and parents who loved him. When he opened them again, it wasn’t to the crushing weight of despair like it had so often been since the day his magic manifested, but to the lightness of hope in his heart.

He was no longer a boy who had never felt wrath, and he never would be again.

However he could be a man who knew wrath and forgiveness in equal measure, and he could accept their place in his life going forward, wherever forward would take him.


	6. Envy // Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Anders likes touch and Fenris does not, but the two come to a mutal understanding over dinner on evening while Hayden is away.
> 
> Anders has twitchy fingers, Fenris is more observant than people think.

It almost feels wrong to want more of what they give him.

Hayden would gladly do so and wouldn’t even think of offering anything else than a few more moments of their time should he but bat an eyelash their way. Anders could not seem to ask more from Fenris than the brooding elf was willing to give however, though that didn’t mean he never wanted to.

Sometimes in the evenings Hayden would get caught up in business with the other nobles and it would be just Anders and Fenris for a little while. Usually they would spend time in the library reading their separate books, or they would head down to the cellars Anders had repurposed into an alchemy lab and Fenris would curl up on one of the blanket draped benches while Anders brewed and poured over scrolls and scrolls of notes on his experiments.

Rarely did they ever share those evenings with an activity that was something other than retiring from dinner early to indulge in some of their more unusual kinks that Hayden was uncomfortable participating in. Still, Anders hungered for Fenris’ touch in the same way that he hungered for Hayden’s.

Was it possible to be envious of one’s own self? 

Anders’ fingers drummed idly on the table as he ate his stew one evening, chewing slowly on the meat while lost in thought. That is until a hand came to rest on top of his, ceasing the movements of his fingers. 

“Anders,” Fenris rumbled, slightly exasperated. “Stop tapping. It grates on the nerves a little.” Anders flushed and ducked his head, fingers still twitching.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his food. “I just... can’t seem to stop sometimes.” 

Fenris was quiet for a moment before he moved from the table, the movement causing Anders to look up to see what he was doing. Fenris merely slid his own food over and came around to sit next to Anders so that they sat shoulder to shoulder. The hint of warmth that radiated off of the elf seemed to ease Anders’ excess energy enough for him to relax, and his body sort canted to one side reflexively, pressing up against Fenris.

Fenris went still at this, and Anders pulled back slightly.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...” 

He tilted his head to see Fenris’ expression, though that was as unreadable as ever. Fenris merely shook his head slightly and huffed. “It is... alright. I am merely... unused to such contact.”

Anders raised an eyebrow as he cautiously went back to his eating.

“I knew you were averse to touch before, but at night you don’t seem to have problems cuddling.”

Fenris shrugged. “The two things are... entirely different, somehow. And I try not to let myself become the one in the middle. I prefer the outside.” Anders nodded thoughtfully after swallowing another bite. “Makes sense.” He glanced again between them and frowned at the elf, concerned. 

“Yes, Anders. I’m fine. Go back to your eating and try to tap the table a little less, please. Thank you.” After that was said, Fenris returned to his own meal and left Anders to his food and his thoughts.

The urge to continue tapping returned a little while later while they were indulging in dessert and Anders, remembering Fenris’ request, reached over to take Fenris’ hand instead. Fenris still tensed when Anders’ hand grasped his, but he relaxed when Anders’ thumb began to idly rub against the backs of his fingers in a slow, repetitive motion. 

The motion stopped when Anders realized what he’d done, and before he could pull away again, Fenris’ grunted and muttered in a low growl, “Don’t. This is... alright. Please... don’t stop.”

Anders paused for a moment more before continuing as he replied in a quiet whisper, “Thank you, Fenris.”

A gentle pressure to his shoulder and another grunt served as his answer.

Perhaps he didn’t need to ask more from Fenris. 

Fenris was just as willing as Hayden to give Anders what he needed it seemed, he just spoke a different sort of language than most. His was a language of small gestures and soft touches, given only voluntarily yet not as sparingly as Anders had once thought.  

All Anders had to do was ask.


	7. Pride // Humility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Anders and Justice share a rare moment of connection, and Justice comes to realize something important about their host.
> 
> Took an interesting choice in writing Justice as having no gender at all (mostly). Otherwise there is nothing really of note, and I'm glad to have written this one.

Despite his cutting words, his preference for order and cleanliness, Anders was not a prideful man. That was what Justice most liked about their host, their friend. Despite all the other vices and virtues that the mage carried with him, pride was not often one of them.

Justice was glad of it, because they hated Pride Demons.

Rather nasty things. Very difficult to deal with quickly. Their whips were especially unpleasant when they wrapped around you and pumped you full of electricity. Anders had a very vivid memory of the Baroness doing that to him.

Sometimes pride touched Anders’ heart, even still, but rarely was it the toxic sort that often seeped into the hearts of mortals and pushed them to seek dark paths and even darker deeds. No, the pride that often stole into Anders happened in secret, growing like a bright little flower in a ray of noonday sun. It came when Hayden accomplished a difficult spell, or when Fenris started reading potions’ instructions on his own.

Anders was not a prideful man, Justice thought again. 

No, he was most certainly not. 

Since their arrival in Kirkwall, Anders had been running a clinic for the Blight refugees, and later, merely all of Darktown and some of Lowtown who could not afford the exorbitant prices of the Hightown doctors and surgeons. He took no coin from anyone who could not afford it, and sometimes he’d even turn material payments away. At first, these things had been at Justice’s insistence, because why should they take things from people who needed them more?

It was Hayden who opened their eyes to what that meant for Anders, physically.

“Even with Grey Warden stamina, Justice, he cannot function on an hour of sleep and air alone! He has to eat, he has to rest!” Justice had sat back in Anders’ desk chair, staring at the young mage who was not afraid of their appearance. “Do not let him neglect those things, please.”

Justice searched Hayden’s wide, pleasing eyes, but found no pride lurking there either. In fact, despite them standing and he sitting, Hayden seemed much, much smaller than they were.

“Why do you ask these things of me?”

Hayden shrugged. “Because he and I are... lovers? Because it’s what a friend does? Because it’s the least that I can do? Why would I not ask these things? I care about his well being. Someone should, if it is not Anders.”

Hayden was not prideful either. Rather, it appeared to the spirit that their deep concern came from a place of genuine humility.

To Justice’s knowledge, Anders had rarely been touched by the effects of another’s humility. More often than not, it was another’s pride. Pride was etched into the lines on their back, the cuts of their face, the gashes and burns on their sides and front. Above their heart lay the greatest and most dangerous scar of pride that they carried.

Justice knew that Anders feared becoming a true abomination, and he feared becoming a Pride Demon most of all.

Pride Demons were, in Anders’ words,  _the worst_. 

They so often would use the whips they carried to pull you to them where they’d grasp you, hold you, pin you close, all just to whisper your greatest failings in your ear and fill your lungs with the poisonous smoke of the thought that if you just gave in to it, you could be so much _better_  than everyone else...

Suddenly, Justice could feel Anders shudder.

_Justice. What are you thinking about? Have I done something wrong?_

The world filtered in around the spirit’s awareness as they gently moved forward to press against Anders’ consciousness. Justice noted with some disapproval that they were standing in the Gallows Courtyard, however Anders was not there alone. They stood with Hayden and the elf, Fenris, as they were there to deliver ingredients to the one shopkeeper Anders liked here. Anders’ recent memory informed Justice that the odd dwarf was nearby, and their presence soothed Justice’s concern for the moment. This allowed them to focus on the task at hand: communication.

It was still a difficult thing, communicating with Anders. Emotions were still their primary mode of discussion, and Justice knew it was a terribly inefficient method. Still, they did their best to convey a feeling they knew Anders liked: reassurance, followed by something that they hoped felt like an apology.

A single thought followed these feelings that Justice dared to hope Anders would hear:

_**My apologies. I was absorbed in an unpleasant memory.** _

A soft breath of relief tumbled from Anders’ lips as their feet shifted and they leaned against a nearby wall to half listen to Hayden’s conversation with the recipient of their hard-earned ingredients.

_One of yours, or mine?_

There was a sound, a chuckle, that followed these words, though it did not pass Anders’ lips. It filled the void around the space that Justice occupied and wrapped around them as a quilt similar to the ones Anders had enjoyed in his youth. Anders’ amusement spilled into them, and for a moment their two consciousnesses ran in tandem.

 ** _Yours_** , Justice answered.  ** _It was not an action of yours that I disapproved of; do rest easy knowing that._**

_Justice!_

Anders’ voice once again filled the space they occupied, and though their body showed no outward signs of their internal exchange, Justice became enveloped by Anders’ complex emotions of excitement and relief that were underlaid with fear and hesitation.

These periods of mind to mind communication were still rare and did not often last, but their increasing frequency never ceased to bring Anders great joy.

It was a little overwhelming, sometimes; like now.

 _Oh, sorry Justice_ , Anders fretted apologetically. _I.. I’m glad, knowing that. But do be careful alright? Many of my memories are unpleasant._

 _ **I was thinking about pride demons**_ , Justice replied.

_Ugh, why are you thinking about those? They’re the worst._

A spring of amusement welled up from within them, and it filtered into Anders’ thoughts. He could feel Anders smile at the knowledge that he’d made a Fade Spirit laugh.

 _ **I...**_ Justice began, searching for the right words, only to find none. 

 ** _I find that I do not rightly know,_**  they confessed.  _ **But I know that I was thinking about them, and that you are afraid of becoming one... that is because of me, I suspect.**_

If there was a spirit version of a concerned mental sigh, that was the sensation that surely passed between them. Anders answered with his own reply of reassurance.

_Oh Justice. I don’t think that any more. I thought you knew that._

This... this was news to Justice.

**_I... do now, I suppose. What has changed?_ **

Anders took a few precious moments to gather his thoughts before replying.

_This. We’re talking. We couldn’t do that before. Hayden and Fenris have been helping me to help you, and this lets me know that their effort is working. It lets me know that I haven’t ruined you, or corrupted you. Every time I hear your voice, I am filled with such relief that I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve their help, or yours._

Justice wanted to interject, but they sensed that their moment of connection was fading as Anders was becoming distracted by a commotion across the courtyard. There was little time for what Anders had to say, and Justice wanted to hear it, so they let him finish.

_I think in the end, it’s not really about what I deserve. It’s about what I need, and I needed help. I didn’t know it, but that’s what I needed and they’ve given it to me so freely. Well, more or less. Fenris still has trouble with the idea of mage freedom and Hayden would rather I not resort to something like blowing up a building to make a point but... they’re doing their best. Really, that’s all I could ever want from them. Or you._

_Don’t feel guilty about anything you’ve pushed me to do, because I am a better person for it. I... I get the feeling we don’t have much more time right now, so I just want to say that I’m glad for your help, and I still need it. All the time. I don’t deserve you either, but I’m glad I have you all the same._

And that was when Justice sensed their fragile connection beginning to fray again, so he backed off and allowed the world to fade away once more.

Anders was moving on with the others, his thoughts becoming more concerned with the world around him. Justice, having little else to do as a passenger, let Anders’ words roam free amongst the thoughts currently swimming around in their space while they coiled up and mulled them over. Certainly, the sentiments that the words invoked pleased Justice in a way they could not describe.

Justice was glad that Anders had taken those few moments to gather his thoughts. They knew that such moments of clarity were rare for their friend, nor did they often speak so frankly and with so much honesty.

(Of course Anders was often one or the other, but not often both at once.)

Anders was not a prideful man, and this Justice now felt to be a certainty. Anders was kind and gentle, fiery and furious, passionate about the things and the people he loved. However he also possessed more humility than the spirit suspected he thought possible, and that brought a comforting ease to Justice’s previously conflicted mind.

Their dear friend was right about one thing: Justice should not have to worry about Anders fearing becoming a demon. However, Justice thought that this had more to do with the wealth of humility that lay in their heart and not from any repairs to their connection, as grateful as they were for those as well.

Pride stood no chance against the sword of a humble heart, and Justice was glad that Anders trusted them enough to give them the honor of guarding it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come to my [tumblr](http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/), I don't bite! As long as you're not tasty, anyway. ;)


End file.
